Children are Cruel: The Third Quarter Quell
by DefoNotAFangirl
Summary: Katniss never won the 74th Hunger Games, and the rebellion never started. Instead, her young companion Rue was the one to come home, and the Quarter Quell was never changed. But perhaps the change would have been kinder, as this year children as young as six are being sent into the games. SYOT closed, but feel free to read!
1. Prelude

**Authors Note: Hello everyone! I really adore SYOT stories and I decided to make one of my own! Obviously, this is an alternate universe where Katniss died in the 74th Hunger Games, so the Quarter Quell was never changed. Anyways, onto the story!**

 _ **Rue Harvester, 13, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games**_

Rue can't sleep.

This isn't unusual for her- almost all Victors suffer from insomnia of some form, and the fact that today would be when when the Capitol announced the Quarter Quell made it far worse- all Victors dread them, from what she'd been able to gather, from the stern Honoria from Two, worrying about how perhaps no one could volunteer, about how some innocent twelve year old could be forced to the stage ("just like you!" she stressed), to the aggressive Johanna from Seven, who barely concealed her hatred and said words others were hesitant to say around a girl Rue's age, despite the fact she'd heard it all before.

No, what is unusual is the nightmares. Not the fact she's having nightmares, she has them every night, Katniss's still body after the Career boy, who she later learned was called Cato, had stabbed her again and again and again, his screams when the rock from the slingshot hit him in his right eye, Thresh "accidentally" falling off the Cornucopia, though can guess the truth, into the Mutts when the Gamemakers said only one of them could ever win.

These nightmares were different. Horrifying images of new arenas, each one somehow more terrifying and impossible than the last, the Quarter Quell announcement repeated with each new change crueller and terrifying to consider, being forced to mentor a girl so much older than she is only to watch her die in ways slower and more monstrous than the last.

Barely stopping herself from screaming, she decides to stay awake all night. Waking up her parents, her brothers and sisters, that would achieve nothing but cause them to suffer alongside her. Rue catches herself thinking _and if they struggle because they're tired at work, they'll be beaten_ before dimly remembering none of them has to work now, not ever. They're safe.

Rue sits downstairs in the lounge and picks up a book. It was a limited supply and far too childish for her liking, the Capitol seemingly deciding since she was twelve and the youngest Victor, she must have been helplessly innocent. The books are all utter trash, she's found out, pointless platitudes about Capitol kid's utterly vapid adventures and poorly hid propaganda extolling the virtues of the Capitol, but it kept the thoughts out of her head and out of the shadows they hid in denying her respite in her waking hours.

An hour later, Rue is asleep on the couch, too tired to resist. She doesn't dream, and the nights where she doesn't dream are the good ones. She sleeps through her family waking up at six, a habit formed from long ago they never managed to break. She sleeps through her father calling her in for breakfast, for one of the odd yet tasty recipes he'd picked up a habit for making ever since they had enough food.

It is near three o'clock when she finally awakes, having to be physically shaken by one of her sisters, Dolores. When Rue opens her eyes and sees her, she can only see their differences now. Dolores has a fiery passion in her eyes that Rue lost when she killed a man. After getting frustrated, Dolores speaks. "Wakey wakey, Rue! C'mon, stop being so stubborn! Do you want me to shout at you or not?"

"Dolores, I'm awake," replies Rue, too tired to speak beyond a quiet monotone. "I was enjoying that sleep…"

Dolores sighs and raises her hands to her hips. "Do you _know_ what time it is? The reading of the card- the Quell card, of course- is in _ten minutes,_ sleepyhead. The Peacekeepers'll beat us if we're not watching."

Rue can't argue against that. She sits up and wraps her arms around herself reflexively, just to feel a little better. The wait is agonising. She stares at the television and waits for it to turn on automatically as she counts down the minutes in her head. When she's counted halfway to a hundred billion, or at least it seems that much to her, she's startled when President Snow's voice rings out. She nearly falls into Dolores- she can't believe she forgot her family was sitting beside her-before she can pay attention.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every District was made to hold an election and vote on the Tributes who would represent it. On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every District was required to send twice as many Tributes."

Rue waits with bated breath for the announcement of this years Quarter Quell. Each second is an agonising eternity, the president slowly grasping for the envelope neatly marked "75" from a box held by a boy who can't be that different in age to Rue herself. Finally, the President speaks, and Rue lets out a breath she didn't realise she was holding.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that those hurt the most in their senseless violence were innocent children, every District is required to reap a Tribute between the ages of six and sixteen."

The world blurs in front of Rue's eyes, and she's vaguely aware of arms grasping around her waist and holding her tight. She pulls herself free and tries to stand, only for her to vomit up what little was still in her stomach.

All she can think is that no one younger than her should ever be forced into the hell she suffered.

 **Please check my profile for the rules and character sheet! As a note, please do not send tributes by review as I will most likely reject them. PM me please!**


	2. Water of the Womb

**Yo! Welcome to the first Reaping chapter, of District Two! I know, I know, you should do One first, but Two is my first and only complete pair. A word of advice, by the way, if you submit a tribute to a district that already has another (opposite gender) tribute they'll have their reaping written earlier.**

 _ **Auden Tetra, 12, District 2 Female**_

Like all days, Auden Tetra wakes up to the ringing of a bell at six o'clock sharp. She's long grown out of trying to get just five more minutes of sleep- the Training Centre isn't as harsh as what she's heard about the community home, but that's not saying much. Her room is mostly barren, in the dull grey colours that have grown to symbolise District Two. The only source of colour is a light blue dress neatly laid out on the floor, she supposes to look nice for the Capitol as it's so far removed from the usual lightweight training clothes she wears every other day.

Auden gets changed quickly- if possible, she might be able to sneak in half hour of training before the Reapings, which are at around seven-thirty. The dresses material is reassuringly lightweight, and she thinks she may be able to fight in it if needs be. She heads down the corridor to the small mess hall for the children who live here- a number that hovers roughly around ten, Auden never bothered to count the exact number. As far as she's aware, they're all here by choice. Their parents receive a monthly stipend every month they're living here, to promote District honour if she remembers the excuse correctly, but she's seen some of them leave.

She can't. Her parents had sold her to this facility, staff had said that much, before she could even remember their faces. She's aware that's of questionable legality, at best, but so's this whole operation. From what little she remembers of home, she remembers the smell of alcohol and a gnawing feeling in her stomach, similar to the kind of being hit in the stomach by a wooden sword. All she cares to think about her parents is that she hates them for betraying her, turning her into a tool for the Capitol, not that she cares about that. She knows she must win- she is going to win the Games someday because she has no other choice.

She shovels down her breakfast, lamb soup she guesses from the taste, and stares at the other trainees surrounding her. They'd likely be her future opponents, after all, it's well known in Two that most of the Volunteers come from here and from the community homes. _They're weak,_ she surmises. They're all talking to each other like friends, about irrelevancy wholly removed from the entire reason they're here, the Games.

And then a thought strikes. _I should volunteer._ Glancing a quick look around the table, realising she's probably the oldest one there, the idea comes back. The words _I should Volunteer_ bounce through her head, and as she thinks about it, it makes more sense. The Volunteers hand selected can't Volunteer, obviously, as they're eighteen. And if these are to be her competition, it's best to strike early, when they're still dumb and naive.

She turns to the staff member supervising them, a man twice her size easily, and asks "May I get in some extra training time?" The man- Cassius, she thinks his name is- nods and holds up six fingers. Six minutes. She better make this count. The Training Centre is surprisingly small- it's less than a minute to get to the weapons, and that's right next to the door out- and Auden grabs one of the real swords before turning to a pathetic looking dummy that already has a knife poking out of its arm. She knows what she will do- she'll practice for her private session.

She holds the sword up (it's a bit too big for her, she realises, but she can make it work) and swings it towards the dummy, cutting off its arm with the satisfying sound of the arms collision with the floor. She picks up some throwing knives and, just to be impressive, throws them at the dummy with her eyes closed. It's breaking safety rules, of course, but if no one's around to notice Auden can do whatever the hell she damn well likes. After hearing the sound of metal on metal, she opens her eyes to see her handiwork.

It's a mess, she decides. One of the knives had landed firmly in the foot of the dummy, which could possibly be a kill if your opponent also happened to be currently bleeding to death. The others had awkwardly bounced off a metal rack holding some wooden weapons for training with others. She's going to keep her eyes open next time. Before she can pick up the knives and hide the evidence, she hears the door opening and sees the others- the weaklings, actually, as a future Victor she can't compare herself to them- enter the room. She briefly thinks _oh shit, I'm in trouble_ before realising they can't well punish her in the Games.

She rushes out the doors before the rest of them can even catch up, barely avoiding running into people with the single-minded thought _I have to get to the Justice Building._ There wasn't any rush, the Reapings were in about thirty minutes, but there's no reason for her to sit around and wait. If she can get to the Reaping early, it just shows she's all the better for it.

She gets there earlier than she would have expected- the Training Centre is fifteen minutes away from the Justice Building, and she's there sixteen minutes before the reaping if the clock she sees through a window is to be trusted. After getting her blood taken, she's herded into a pen of twelve year olds, and Auden can't stand them at first sight. They're nervous, bouncing on their toes, one is crying to a friend _no Volunteer will be able to save me if I'm Reaped,_ and Auden decides maybe she shouldn't Volunteer if she gets Reaped, but she immediately discards the thought. She's a Career, and she wouldn't give up volunteering for the sake of a scared weak girl.

She'll prove to everyone that they shouldn't underestimate her.

 _ **Luka Tetra, 16, District 2 Male**_

Luka bounces up and down on his heels nervously, the minutes until the Reaping seeming like hours. All Luka can think is _please don't reap me please don't reap me please don't reap me._ He knows someone will volunteer, most likely, but that only makes it worse. He's the oldest possible age for a Tribute in these games, and someone volunteering for him means he sent a child off to their deaths.

When finally the Escort walks on, a small, young-looking woman by the name of Metru Serris, Luka breathes out a sigh of relief. At least we can get things over with. She awkwardly looks into the crowd with metallic red eyes, before speaking. "Hello and, uh, welcome to the 75th Reaping! I'll reap the girls first?" Luka wonders how such a blatantly Escort ended up in Two of all places, though he guesses she must have at least some talent hidden under the exterior.

She sticks her hands into the reaping bowl and fumbles around for a slip, ears twitching- _oh my god did she get cat ears installed that's adorable_ Luka idly thought, before realising the woman is likely twice his age- before grabbing a small piece of paper. She reads out "Artemia L-"

" _I volunteer!"_

Before Artemia can even start walking up to the stage, a blur runs out of the twelve-year-old section- _god, please don't be her be anyone but her_ \- and a tanned young girl with the same dark brown hair as him- _it can't be her fuck no be literally anyone but her I don't care_ \- as she announces "I'm Auden Tetra, the soon to be Victor of the 75th Hunger Games!"

Luka's ears ring as he desperately tries not to be sick. Not Auden. Auden should be safe _,_ she should be _safe_ away from Mom and Dad. But she's not, she's about to die because his parents couldn't go a month without a drink and sold their _fucking innocent daughter to the academies._ He remembers her innocent smile, her laugh, and now he sees it all replaced with bloodshed and murder, her smile turned twisted, and her laugh turned bitter.

And when the next name read out is "Luka Tetra", Luka can't even think anymore. Of course he's in the Games with his sister- his little, lovely sister who should have never left him- and he can't move, all the muscles just don't work, he can't run and he can't walk up to the stage and he wants to scream but he can't.

After what seems like an eternity and a second, the strong arms of Peacekeepers lift him and frog-march him towards the stage, and when he's standing there with his sister, you see the look in her eyes towards him. Hatred. Her expression paints a thousand words and in a second Luka knows she wants him dead.

This time, he really is sick.

 **And so here we have the tributes of District Two! The bloodthirsty Auden and the pacifistic Luka! Both are by the lovely Professor R.J Lupin, who has submitted some lovely tributes to help me! I'd like to know what you thought of the sibling Tributes here, that would help me a lot. Thanks!**


	3. Stranger than Fiction

**And here is Chapter Three, Stranger than Fiction, the District Nine reapings! Sorry for being so late, I had school and a lot of stress.**

 _ **Aven Connolly, District 9 Female, 9**_

Aven wakes up to the sound of rain pouring against the bridge she was sleeping underneath. It's generally out of the way, even for the large but quiet District Nine, which of course made it ideal. She and her friends were tolerated by the District, doing more than their fair share of work for few coin and just enough food to get by, but the Peacekeepers would get them into the community homes, an idea far more horrifying than taking their chances on the street. At least on the street, they have some control over their life.

Everyone else is fast asleep, it seems. Mila is usually the first to wake and the last to sleep, and it must have caught up with her. Aven can't blame her, she's lucky, she's safe, unlike the rest of them. She deserves that, for all the hell she gets through to keep them safe. Will still has a smile in his sleep, which surprised her at first but she got used to it. He's one of the few truly happy people she's ever seen.

Ciabatta, as beautiful asleep as awake, lay next to Aven. The girls were friends even before the Incident, spoken only in hushed tones by the adults, killed their parents, and they'd always been the best of friends. And then there's Havon, the youngest of the five, fast asleep. He hardly seemed to understand the dread that woke Aven up early.

She'd been thinking- thinking hard, ever since that night where all the citizens of Nine were herded into the Justice Building and the many streets around and the President announced on their old televisions that suddenly only a third of her group- her family, though not of blood- were in danger of the Games. Including her. The only way she got through life were the thoughts that if she could survive until the magical age of nineteen where she'd be an adult and safe, at least from the Games, and everything would be alright. It was a thought that soothed her, even in the hardest of times, and the idea she could be sent to the Games felt like a violation of it.

She grasps onto a dirtied piece of blue cloth, the only remnants of her old baby blanket and thus the only remnants she ever once had parents. She'd managed to keep it with her the three years she'd been on the streets, and she wasn't going to lose it now, not on her life. She tucks it into the little makeshift pocket on her worn brown dress Mila had made with some spare fabric and thread- it's noticeably lighter than the rest of the dress, but it's functional and if there is anything Aven needs it is function.

Aven turns to wake her friends. If they wake early enough, they may be able to do some work before the Reapings, and every coin counts. "Mila? It's time to wake up," she says quietly, hoping Mila can wake everyone else up, and that Aven won't have to be too loud- that's not something she's particularly comfortable with. She doesn't want to be too pushy.

Luckily, Mila wakes up despite Aven's quietness and awakens the rest of the group. There's a farm not too far from the bridge- only a ten-minute walk- and the owner is kind, and kindness means more food which means survival. The walk is dull- Aven hopes Nine isn't the only District to rain in mid July. Upon arrival, they find out the farm is closed. _Of course. The Reapings,_ thinks Aven, realising the Justice Building from here is about an hours walk. It must be later than the group thinks. Mila figures this out but a second later than Aven- Aven has always prided herself on her intelligence, but some things only come with age and these "some things" usually refers to common sense.

Mila carries Havon on her back as they prepare the long walk to their potential deaths. Aven can't help but get the feeling it'll be the last time she sees them.

 _ **Zygar Icewing, District 9 Male, 15**_

There was a time before the Reapings, and Zygar wishes he was in those times.

He knows this because of the books his family has- old, Pre-Panem books, some fiction, some not, and some in which it's harder to tell. Owning them is probably very very illegal, and he and his family cared very very little. It's the only real thing of value they own- and really, who would think to search their little shack for some books? The idea is so ridiculous it would never happen.

But something far less ridiculous was the threat he was facing now. The Reapings. The escort- a man by the name of Yuri Rynbo, who had his entire body dyed a variety of painful to look at colours and was wearing much of the same- was currently reaching out his hands into the reaping bowl that contained his name written in thirty times in neat handwriting.

Really, Zygar isn't surprised his name is read out. Not that it doesn't hurt or scare him- he's utterly terrified, and walks up in shock as he can feel liquid pool at the corner of his eyes he tries so hard not to let spill. He can't even bother to correct Yuri- he was Zygar Wheatstone, legally, but his family had used Icewing for a long time. When Yuri reaches into the girls' bowl and reads out the name Aven Connolly, he only feels worse- a shocked gasp is let out of the nine-year-olds section, and a redhead girl he'd have sworn looked twelve walks up to the stage on what seems to be pure instinct.

The two of them stare out into the silent crowd, and as Yuri finishes his sugar-coated speech about how these are the lucky Tributes of the 75th Hunger Games and Zygar is glad to be left alone in the Justice Building for his goodbyes. His parents come in near immediately, and his father pulls him into a hug. His mother quickly passes him a page- his heart skips a beat when he sees it, the first page of Wings of Fire, god he read that book so much after some distracted Capitolite damn near run him over and nearly split his head in two, and he couldn't exactly work on the wheat farm immediately after that.

"Your token," Mother says, as firm but gentle as usual. "Take it." He's taken aback- that was his family's favourite book, he can't believe they'd rip a page out.

"Don't you want it? You can read it after I-" he says, but is cut off by his mother again.

"We've memorised this page, don't worry. You need it more than we ever could" Mother says, and that is that. Zygar knows there's no arguing with Mother when she's set her mind on these things. "Nice shirt, by the way."

He looks down and realises he's wearing an old t-shirt- he and his family used some wool they had lying around to sew in the words "Dumbledore Rocks!" It was fun, but also part of the illusion they gave off. Don't hide your references, and everyone around will simply think you mad. Not that it wins any friends, of course.

His parents hold him deep into a hug until they're lead out by Peacekeepers. Next comes Moira, his only friend. Dark haired with freckles, he knows that she's beautiful on an aesthetic level, but the idea of asking her out seemed odd, and it's far too late at this point. Why would she bother on someone likely to die in a week?

Which makes it all the more of a surprise when she immediately dives into his arms and kisses him deeply.

 **And here we have the lovely Tributes of District Nine! The mature Aven is from Professor R.J Lupin, and the strange Zygar is from AlexFalTon! I'm sorry for changing Mira's name to Moira by the way, just thought a Mila and a Mira may be a bit difficult to keep track of especially since they're minor characters. How did you like these tributes? Next up is definitely District One, as I have every tribute for that.**


	4. Family Matters

**Sorry for being gone so long! I've been struggling with some mental health issues and couldn't write- hopefully I'll be more consistent now! Sorry if this chapter is a bit short, by the way. Anyway, this is the District One Reaping!**

 _ **Argentina Macri-Kirchner, District One Female, 10**_

 _In a world far from Panem, magic was known._

No, that definitely wasn't good enough. Argentina flops onto their bed in frustration, dropping down the pen they were using to write down ideas for the story that won't leave their head. They need a better opening line than that. Something to draw in readers, catch them on a hook. That was always the best way to start a story, they knew, but that isn't happening.

It's probably because it's Reaping Day, which Argentina is dreading. Reaping Day is definitely the worst day of the year, in her eyes. Children are sent off to die for the unrighteousness of Panem, usually ones trained for years to brainwash them into throwing their lives away. It's really no wonder her sister Nadia, poor Nadia, she was never quite right in the head.

They just hope they won't be reaped. Obviously, they don't want to die, but that would be avoided if someone volunteered, and they had some academy training. That wasn't the only bad thing about being Reaped. The Games-intentionally or not- enforced a gender binary between male and female. Argentina knows transgender children can easily change whether their name is in the female or male bowl, but as someone outside that dichotomy altogether, it had been agreed their name wouldn't be moved out of the female bowl. The idea of the whole world seeing them as a girl- they were fine if one or two people made a mistake, that was understandable, but the whole of Panem? The idea was unthinkable.

They've already thrown on a t-shirt and jeans- the Reaping is at six-thirty, so the entire District wakes up at dawn today. The outfit is almost offensively plain for reaping day, but it's better than the old red dress folded neatly on the floor. The family didn't really have much money to spend on new clothing that'd be wore maybe three or four times a year, maximum, so they had Nadia's old hand me downs that she grew out of, whether it was from age or when she got pregnant.

No, the worst part about Reaping Day was the fact that Nadia could be reaped. She's sixteen, the oldest possible age, and then not only would Argentina's beloved sister die but her baby too. And they knew she couldn't make it, no matter how much Papa pushed her into it. She'd seen her swing from happy to sad on a whim, come home crying almost every week after she'd entered another failed romance. Argentina couldn't have that happen to her, ever.

They made a promise to themself, there and then. If Nadia were Reaped, they would volunteer. Better one dead child than two.

 _ **Miroslav Altamura, District One Male, 11**_

In the simulations in the academy, there was always one way to victory he excelled at. Manipulation. The simulators were simplified programs- he had learnt after saving up for a computer they were slightly altered copies of Hunger Games video games for children in the Capitol- but that didn't mean they didn't teach useful skills, and he is definitely confident he'd learnt enough to survive in an arena fullsix-year-olds.

Which is why Miroslav Altamura has decided to volunteer. He'd known one day he'd volunteer anyways, even if he wasn't chosen nothing was stopping him from merely screaming out "I VOLUNTEER" before whatever musclebound simpleton the Academy somehow thought would win could. If only he could wait till then. But he can't.

His brother, Zar, is the selected volunteer this year. Good luck, most of the District would think, but Miroslav knows better. He's seen Zar break down in tears when his parents and Jasper, his other brother, were fighting, and he saw the faint scars he tried to hide with long sleeves. He wouldn't last a day in the arena, and really it's a mercy that the Altamura on that stage will be little Miroslav.

He wonders who his district partner would be. The girl up on stage right now- Nania or something, he can't quite remember her name- had no chance of getting into the games. She's blatantly pregnant, and to give District One any credit they'd never let a pregnant girl into the Games. He's surprised, though, when the volunteer comes from the herd of ten-year-olds, and the girl appears to be small and petite. Easy pickings, he'd guess, though he knows better to underestimate a One.

The escort- a desaturated looking woman wearing a Roman toga he can't bother to remember the name of, asks her for her name, and she replies with "Argentina Macri-Kirchner," and it's only when the escort rather excitedly exclaims "Oh! Sisters!" that he realises she's basically a smaller version of that Nonia girl, with dark hair and pale skin. Argentina smiles awkwardly, and tells the escort they're not a girl, and they start to engage in a conversation Miroslav can't care about, and he waits to hear a name, any name, and before the escort can even finish saying "Quintessence C-" he screams "I VOLUNTEER!" and runs up to the stage before anyone could object.

Before the escort could even say anything, he shouts into the mic "I'm Miroslav Altamura! One's _youngest_ Victor." and grins. Argentina is giving him an odd look, and the escort shuffles them into the Justice Building before Miroslav can continue exclaiming confidence into the microphone. He doesn't wait long for a visitor. Zar.

When Zar slaps him across the face for daring to volunteer over him, Miroslav has one thought. _No matter what I could ever regret about Volunteering, at least I'm away from my family for a while._

 **Both of these tributes were from the lovely 20! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you like how I portrayed your tributes! And everyone else, how did you like these tributes? I can't believe we're a quarter way through the Reapings already!**


	5. Soon We'll Televise

**AAAAAAAA I'm so sorry that I stopped updating! It's just I got sick and then my mum got measles and I couldn't write I'm afraid. But now at least I've got our next chapter up! The District Three Reapings, Soon We'll Televise! If you get the reference I'll be pleasantly surprised, haha :)**

 _ **Sacha Kuiper, District 3 Male, 11**_

The book Sacha has just finished reading was not a good one. It was blatant Capitolite propaganda to all but the most naive of citizens, with writing swinging from prose a shade of lavender purple to bluntness in a second while not being particularity good at either. But it was a book, and it was words.

Besides, it's always good to go through the motions. Especially on Reaping Day. Sacha hates the Reaping for reasons manyfold, not the least of which was that it was unpredictable, a sort of looming threat they had no clue when or if it would ever strike. Before it was worry that Anita, their best friend, would be Reaped, since they'd just turned twelve this year, then after they'd learnt of the quell this year, there was this eclipsing shadow that they might be Reaped themselves.

Perhaps it would be better if they merely knew who was getting Reaped beforehand. The terror knowing that you, or someone you loved, would inevitably die, perhaps somehow that would be easier to deal with prior warning. Or perhaps the dread would be worse, devouring you with dark tendrils of fear.

They'd never know- for all the dread the Reaping gave, at least it was predictable in its own unpredictability. Sacha was certain there was probably a kid in their class, if not class then the school, who'd be able to perfectly calculate a formula for someone's odds of being Reaped, but Sacha has never been that kind of genius. They certainly aren't unintelligent- they definitely know they do well in school, but they weren't any of those kids who'd get one hundred percent on all their tests, or the tributes they'd seen in the Games, watching through half-closed eyes, that'd used their intelligence to build traps.

Sacha knew they weren't like that. They've gone through life on a combination of determination and sheer perfectionism, and while that might do them plenty good in their life, it's not going to be much help when a Career twice their size has a knife to their neck. They know how doubtful it is for them to be Reaped, of course, you don't have to be a genius to figure out that when you make just enough to get by without Tessera, and you're young enough to not even be eligible for Reaping under normal circumstances you're most likely going to be fine, but it's that fraction of a percentage, one in a million chance that worries them.

It's really an one in a million chance that anyone in particular is Reaped, after all. So it could very easily be Sacha the one sent to die in the Arena, or Anita, or really anyone. Nobody was safe from the Reaping, anyone could just be took away by the Capitol and forced to fight one another in some sick twisted arena designed to torture those in it for both sick entertainment and a torment to the districts, and this year not even children could be safe.

Sacha picks up another book, to try and take their mind off of things. This one was marginally better written, they'd read through it more than most of their books due to that, but it was still as much blatant propaganda as the last. Sacha slowly reads through the first few pages of the book, trying to avoid the feeling of gnawing dread in their stomach.

 _ **Sella Moore, District 3 Female, 6**_

Sella can't believe she gets to go through her first Reaping so early.

It's less exciting than she first thought, though. She awkwardly shifts around on her feet, waiting for the lady to arrive, trying not to bump into any of the other six-year-old girls around her, giving them a squeaky "sorry!" when she inevitably does. Sella's sure it'll get much more exciting when the lady she knows picks names from the bowls to get people into the Games shows up.

She remembers her- a redhead with weird yellow eyes and a funny looking dress. She was so nice to her brother Rian when he got to go into the Games when he started crying for some reason. Sella still isn't sure why- he got to go on TV and live in the Capitol, and how can anything be wrong with that?

She remembers her brother's Games well- they were in a crumbling city, and he made friends with this nice girl from Five who talked a lot about her little brother. Then the girl disappeared under a falling building, and Rian got hit with a brick a lot by a big boy from Two trying to find her. Sella remembers everyone crying at home, but she wasn't sure why- she knew he wasn't really dead, it was just a show on TV. Why would they go through all the trouble of dressing up Rian and talking to him on TV and letting him live in the Capitol for a whole week and let him die?

Sella was so proud of herself when she figured it out- she told her mom excitedly, and she smiled but didn't stop crying for some reason. She knew people cried when they were happy sometimes, but she seemed so sad before. Sella later figured out why when Rian didn't come home- only the Victor gets to go home, and all the losers are stuck in the Capitol. Sella started crying too once she realised that she wouldn't see her brother again, but she was also really happy he got to live in the Capitol where everyone is nice and has pretty colours like the yellow lady.

Sella is hugging Beanie, a plush cat she realises is falling apart at the seams, but it doesn't matter because Sella knows he's still a perfect cat anyway, when the yellow lady walks onto the stage, smiling brightly. This time she's dressed in a yellow dress that looks like it's entirely made of buttercups. "Greetings, District Three! My name is Mariposa Styx and, as this District's Escort, I shall be the one to Reap the Tributes for the 75th Hunger Games! As it is the third Quarter Quell, this year has an exciting twist to it! This year, tributes can be from any age from six to sixteen, to remind the Districts that those hurt the most by the Rebellion were innocent children, the Reaping age is from six to sixteen. Are you ready?"

After no one responds to Mariposa (which is rather rude, Sella thinks, as she just asked them a question), she walks over to the bowl to the left on the stage, the one for boys if it's the same as when Rian was Reaped. She quickly grabs a piece of paper, and reads out the name "Sacha Kuiper." After a few seconds, a boy with light brown skin and darker brown hair down to his shoulders walks up to the stage. Sella realises he looks very upset and she's not sure why.

"And here we have our lucky male tribute, Sacha Kuiper!" Mariposa says, and Sacha shifts awkwardly in his boots.

"Actually, Miss, I'm nonbinary." Sacha says to Mariposa, quietly but firmly.

Mariposa doesn't falter and immediately corrects herself with "Our lucky nonbinary tribute, Sacha Kuiper!" and moves over to draw out the female tribute while Sacha stares intently at the floor. "And our lucky female tribute is…" she pauses and smiles to the audience, "Sella Moore!"

Sella bursts into a wide smile, running up to the stage dragging Beanie behind her. She excitedly grabs the microphone off a very confused Mariposa and screams "I'm gonna be on T.V!" After Mariposa grabs the microphone back, she says "And… our lucky female tribute. Sella Moore." before muttering to herself something to do with having to put up with this an entire week while Sacha eyes Sella like she's mad.

Sella doesn't care, though. All she can think about is that, finally, she can meet her brother again.

 **This chapter was a blast to write, thanks to the lovely tributes! The ordered Sacha was created by the lovely Elim9, whereas the excitable Sella was created by the wonderful Professor R.J Lupin1! Did you like these tributes? I hope so, I love them. Then again I love every tribute submitted to this story. They are all my babeys. Next chapter I was planning to introduce some Capitolite characters, if that's OK. See you soon (hopefully!)**


	6. Very Close and Far Away

**OK before this chapter begins let me tell you I'm so sorry for disappearing for so long. Real life just got in the way- we had to rehome our beloved dog Star, and exams started… hopefully life will start to get back to normal soon and I can write more, but unfortunately due to this I might update much slower than before. I'm not abandoning this story, however, don't worry! As mentioned earlier, this chapter isn't a Reaping, but it introduces some Capitolite characters who may show up every now and again, so forgive it for being a bit short.**

 _ **Estellia Styx, 24, Gamemaker**_

It was easy to get out of the cameras if you knew how to.

A sharp left turn at the market, through the slums and when you get towards the wall cameras new enough to work become a foreign concept. And with secrecy brought all the rebels to the Capitol, holed up in shacks of wood and iron and abandoned buildings, in conditions intolerable to all other citizens. It was a place the few who knew about it never wanted to visit.

Unfortunately, Estellia needs the help of one of the residents. Or, more accurately, her sister Cynthia needs the help of one of the residents, and she sent her sister to do her dirty work. Not like Estellia wasn't used to that, anyway- Cynthia was the oldest, moulded into the heir for the family name, and Mariposa was the baby, free of the harsh punishments for failure, but Estellia was just the one in between.

Estellia knocks on the dilapidated door to what appeared to be an old bombing shelter long in disuse. It's not locked, or rather isn't able to be locked, but she knows opening it is an excellent way to get a gun in her face. After about a long half minute of waiting, her contact cautiously opens the door.

He's scruffy, with messy black hair and deep bags under his brown eyes contrasting with skin that looks like it's never been in contact with the sun, and his face lights up with a smile when he sees Estellia. "Estellia! It's been a while- come in, come in."

Estellia sighs. "Roy, I'm not here on a social call. I need to-"

"Oh, is it _her_ again?" Roy interrupts, venom in his tone. "Just tell her I don't make a policy of doing two jobs at once."

"It's nothing new. Just some payment and some information." Estellia practically throws the briefcase she's holding at Roy, who clumsily grabs for it. "Go spend it all on your Victor crush or whatever you do with all the money."

"Astra and I are _dating,_ forgive me for spending some money so some other Capitol fucks can't hurt her." He takes a deep breath, and the venom in his voice slowly vanishes. "But thank you for the information."

"Thank Cynthia- she's the one high up enough to get all this. She's aiming to be the youngest Head Gamemaker of all time, as she won't stop telling me. But without this, you couldn't do whatever she's hired you to do." Honestly, Estellia isn't sure how Roy can do his job with all that information- judging from the amount of money she's seen him casually flaunt despite his messy, unmodded appearance he's either got to have some wealthy clients or pulled off a lot of hits without being caught.

"Unfortunately, I'm obliged to have the utmost confidentiality in my work," Roy says, with a joking solemness. "Unless you agree to spend the afternoon here, maybe then I'll accidentally slip a few details your sister, so kindly forgot to tell you." Estellia sighs. She had other plans than to spend the day with a half-crazed hitman at the edge of town. She had people to see, and it'd piss off Cynthia if she messed with her grandiose plans.

But Roy was possibly the only person she knows is a genuine friend. And sometimes that matters more than her sister's games. "Fine," Estellia says, with more venom than perhaps she'd like. "But you've got to promise to talk about your girlfriend half the time."

Roy laughs. "Deal."

 **Again, sorry about the shortness of this chapter or the fact this isn't a Reaping. Next chapter will be, I promise! I'll do four more Reapings then a Mentor chapter, them four more Reapings and possibly an Escort chapter, but I'm more likely to start with the train rides. How did you like these two? They'll mostly be used to show how the Games are on a more outside perspective, but I do have some plotty stuff with them mostly in a possible sequel? Hopefully next update will be soon!**


	7. Unexpected Challengers

**I actually updated quickly, yay! Here's the District Four Reapings! Let's get right into them, shall we?**

 _ **Ishmael Stow, District 4 Male, 15**_

"So," Ishmael says through a mouthful of food. "Since you're still in training for whatever reason, do you know who's gonna volunteer today?"

Brooke blushes bright red. Ishmael already told her she should have volunteered last year, but no, she wanted the glory of a Quarter Quell, and it came back to bite her. "Misha Levant and Herring Porter. Why?"

"Really?" Ishmael laughs, food on his plate now all but ignored. "I wouldn't trust Misha and Herring to have the nerve to volunteer to clean the Academy, let alone volunteer for the Games."

Their mother sighs, with that resigned expression Ishmael always notices on her face. "Now now, children. Play nice."

Brooke frowns, like she always does when treated like a child. "I'm eighteen, mom. I'm not a child!"

"Well, if you want to be treated like an adult you better start acting like one."

And so the daily routine of the Stow family went, undisturbed by the fact it was Reaping Day. Ishmael and Brooke get into some sort of argument, and their mother has to deal with it. Their father is usually off working in the docks, helping build and repair ships, but when he's home he gushes about Julian, the eldest child of the Stows, getting a promotion ("maybe he'll be Mayor some day!") or Brooke succeeding at training despite her young age ("she'll bring honour to our District!"). And then sometimes, once in a blue moon, he'll mention Ishmael.

Ishmael tried- he really did. Tried to study as hard as Julian, train as hard as Brooke, and when they always continued to seem better than him he tried everything he could think of, in the hope of being good at something, not just the ignored sibling, the one everyone would forget.

At least the Games are soon. Watching them is a much needed distraction from life- he's always dreamed of volunteering, but he knows he'd be a pariah if he volunteered when someone else would- Four had a nasty habit of volunteers chickening out at the last moment, but it didn't change the fact most years they sent two well trained Careers specifically picked out. Being just the bad one isn't much better than being the unremarkable one.

He couldn't help but feel jealous of the tributes stardom, how their names were on everyone's lips, how they spent a week pampered in the Capitol like Gods before being sent into the Arena, where their exploits would always live on as legends and they would always be remembered, at least by their home District if no one else. And, if you had the perfect combination of skill and luck, you'd come home a hero, loved by everyone, known by everyone, one of the lucky few who lived in the luxurious homes of the Victors Village that he sees from his window when the fog from the sea doesn't roll in.

If he were ever in the Games, he'd be able to experience so much- things he'd never experience here in Four, and Ishmael kept it a point of pride he tried everything at least once. He'd experience the taste of delicious food far beyond any in Four, a nights sleep away from the busy noises from the streets and the dock, a way to make his mark on not only Four but everyone- absolutely everyone in Panem, and who knows what thrills the Arena would bring! But, unfortunately, he'd never experience that.

Wouldn't he?

 _ **Nieves Steelheart, District 4 Female, 15**_

Nieves always hates the Reapings.

For her, they're just a distraction from the rest of the days' work. She's not even quite sure what they're for- she's heard the name "The Hunger Games" from the escort before, of course, but she's not got time for games. She studies, she works, and sometimes she sleeps. It's the routine she's always been in since she was a child, and she didn't need some "game" to ruin that.

And that's why, as she finds herself waiting in the pen filled to the brim with girls her age, she can't help but wish them to be over with already. She's got no friends to converse with, like many of the girls she sees around her- she's got no friends in general, to be honest. Any distraction from her work would disappoint her family, and she knew that would make her a failure.

It isn't even that she likes her parents- she doesn't. Honestly, if they just up and disappeared and stopped using her as their personal slave, she'd probably be happy for once in her life. But that's not what family does to family. Without family, she'd be without food, without a place to sleep and it's been drilled into her head enough this is the best she could get.

Not that she really eats or sleeps much. Eating and sleeping are (rather unfortunately, she thinks) necessary to survival, but that doesn't mean she needs to indulge in it like she's sure many of the other girls do. She gets on just fine with a meal every few days, whenever she finds the time, and sleeping the few hours she didn't have work.

The escort- a rather small man called Astrius Pann who's dyed a variety of bright pinks and looks like he's never had to work a day in his life, walks onto the stage and excitedly states "Welcome, my lovely District 4, to the 75th Hunger Games! Now, let's dispense with the pleasantries and reap our female tribute. I'm sure you're all just so excited!"

Just as Nieves starts wondering what they could be excited for he reads out the name "Nieves Steelheart!" and her first reaction is that she can't stand such a waste of time. Still, she remembers what the other girls did- she walks up to the stage emotionlessly and Astrius points a microphone in her face and asks "Now, aren't you excited Nieves?"

Nieves freezes for a second and can only say quietly "Let's get this over with." Astrius laughs and says "Can we get a round of applause for the lovely Nieves Steelheart?" When she hears the crowd actually start applauding, she's quite dumbfounded. Why do they care this much over a stupid game?

"And let's get our lovely male competitor," Astrius continues, before fishing out the name "Fishy Lee!" (God, that poor boy must have worse parents than she does.) As a scared twelve year old slowly walks out to the stage, she hears the words "I volunteer!" and a tan boy from the fifteen-year-olds walks onto the stage, shooting a grin and a thumbs up at someone in the crowd.

"Brave Volunteer, what's your name?" asks Astrius, and the boy replies "Ishmael Stow, but please, call me Stow." The crowd bursts into applause before Astrius can say something again, and Stow winks at her and flashes her a grin, before taking her hand to shake it while she's frozen from shock.

"And there you have it! District Four's brave Tributes!" Astrius cries, desperate to be overheard from the crowd as Nieves and Stow are escorted into the Justice Building. Nieves sits on a velvet sofa, absentmindedly waiting to be told what to do, when her parents walk in.

Her mother hands her a necklace with a dove carved upon it Nieves admits is quite beautiful, and just before her mother turns to speak, Nieves interrupts. "No. Don't say anything, just _leave._ You've bossed me around long enough, and now I'm going into this game, whatever the hell that might mean, and I'm going to do it without your orders. You hear me? _Leave._ "

Her parents leave the room, and Nieves sits in shock, contemplating the first act of rebellion in her entire life.

 **So there we have it! The daredevil Ishmael from Elim9 and the stoic Nieves from Candela Moonson! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! How did you like the Tributes? And I hope I'll be able to stick to updating this much haha.**


	8. A Siblings Love

**I'm back into the swing of things (I think) baby! Here's the District Five Reapings, A Siblings Love! I hope you enjoy!**

 _ **Opheliah Mae "Sparky" Collins, District 5 Female, 16**_

The circuit wasn't particularly hard work to make. It was quite simple, just a lightbox, almost insultingly easy for a girl her age, especially one top of the class, but Sparky supposes the teachers wanted to assign some easy work before the Reapings.

It wasn't due in until several weeks after- schools in Five had a tradition of closing while the Games were on, mostly due to students barely being able to work due to anxiety- and Sparky was never usually one to finish work soon after getting it, but the Reapings weren't a regular time. It was better she got it out of the way so she could spend some time with her friends before the Reaping.

 _Besides,_ she thinks absentmindedly, _there is the chance I could be Reaped._

It's unlikely, of course, she knows that. There are so many children in Five eligible for Reaping, especially with the expanded age bracket for this Quell. But there's always the off chance, and she knows that if she is ever Reaped, she's a dead girl walking.

After all, she wasn't anyone special. She was just a fairly typical girl from Three, with some electronic skill, and God only knows the last time one of those won. There was Astra Lux, of course, who'd won just three years ago, but the only reason she won was because she was the only tribute who could start a fire. The last female Victor before that won before Sparky was even born.

I mean, here she was panicking a bit over the Reapings, which every child has been told never to do, you'll almost certainly never be Reaped, and if you are showing shock is better than showing fear. Sparky closes her eyes. _Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out._ That was always what Mom would say when Sparky asked. _Take a deep breath and think of the beautiful oceans of District Four, or the lush forests of District Seven_ \- because thinking about here was just industrialised hellscapes and endless smog- _and tell yourself "everything will be OK."_

The words echo in her head. _Everything will be OK_ , in the voice of her mother, her father, her brother Red, her sister Jazzy, never her own. She tries to think of the forest she's seen on TV every year when they show the Reapings, but her mind keeps getting the Arena of the previous Hunger Games, the one with the little girl, and all she can do is hope, fruitlessly, that somehow the Games will stop-

"Ophelia Mae! Your friends are heeeeeere!" Jazzy's voice rings out.

"Jeez, I thought I told you not to call me that." Sparky chuckled.

"Fiiiiiiine, Sparky." Jazzy makes an over exaggerated pout and it nearly makes Sparky burst out into laughter again. "I was gonna Volunteer for you if you got Reaped, pay some respect."

"Don't!" Sparky says, with more venom than she intends. "Don't- don't ever volunteer for me."

Jazzy's expression changes to a genuine shock. "I- I was joking! I'm sorry! Uh, aren't you ready to see your friends?"

Ophelia can't help but admit she nearly forgot about them in the panic. She quickly gets her brown hair into a messy bun, to look vaguely presentable in case she got Reaped, then goes outside to meet her friends.

"So then I told him, eat the WHOLE lettuce- oh, hey Sparky!" Yolanda waves at Sparky. "Ready to walk to the Reapings with us?"

"Sure," Sparky says "but you better not be telling Hunter about the whole incident with Red."

"Guilty as charged." Yolanda laughs before telling a very confused Hunter "It's complicated."

"Well, on a lighter subject," Sparky says, setting off on the half hour walk to the Justice Building. "So, I saw an alley cat near the old tracker jacker nest at Hangman's Alley…"

 _ **Riley Sparks, District 5 Male, 10**_

Riley tugs on the collar of the oversized nightshirt he's wearing, trying not to sit down. It's so tempting, just to sit down and lay down and get some sleep after being so sick he couldn't sleep for more than twenty minutes last night, but you're not allowed to sit down at the Reapings. He's tried, a few minutes ago, but the Peacekeepers pulled him up, gently but forcibly, back to his feet.

He focuses on the conversation the other boys are having to try and distract himself from the growing desire to sleep seeping through his mind. It's simple stuff really, just all layered one over the other.

"I hope I don't get Reaped." and variations are the most common, along with "Dude, I could _totally_ win the Hunger Games, watch me." and "If you Volunteer for me, I'll Volunteer for you." Other boys seemed as alone as he did, not turning to talk to anyone. If only he weren't a year behind due to barely being well enough to go to school, maybe he'd be the one talking to friends, but for now he could only stand and watch.

The cacophony of voices descend into silence as the Escort, a person named Annex Lyte who's dyed a uniform white with what looked like bird wings upon his back. The entire square seems to skip a beat in the second of silence following, before Annex opens their mouth. "Greetings, exalted citizens of Panem. For this seventy fifth anniversary of your sins, the Capitol requires twenty four children from the ages of six to sixteen to be sent as sacrifice- only one of these exalted souls will return. Two of these offerings shall be from your district, but let's not delay any longer."

Riley is well aware that in most Districts, Reapings are done by paper slips, but in Five for several years they have used the more advanced system of generating a random name on a computer. With the press of a button, a name is shown on the many screens dotting the Justice Building.

Ophelia Mae Collins.

A dark haired girl walks up to the stage holding her head high. Annex hands the microphone over to her and she confidently states "I'm Sparky, but I'm sure you know that. You will when I come home!" There's scattered applause from the audience, quiet compared to the overwhelming noise of the square just minutes before. The button is pressed again, and another name comes up.

Riley Sparks.

He hears a scream, and it's not his. It's Jaxon, his older brother, screaming "No!" and "I Volunteer! Please, please, I Volunteer!" and the crowd is pulled into a fury of disorganised rumours when a Peacekeeper opens up a file to check if this is allowed. Finally, she says firmly "I'm sorry, but seventeen year olds are not allowed to volunteer in this Quarter Quell."

"Someone else Volunteer then! Please, please! Don't-" and Jaxon is dragged away by Peacekeepers and Riley is roughly dragged up to the stage by two Peacekeepers. Riley smiles- he knows someone will listen to Jaxon, surely- and he keeps smiling up until Annex quickly says "And there are your Tributes from Five!" and forces them inside the Justice Building, and Riley just can't help but feel if they stayed there a second longer maybe someone would have Volunteered.

He soon forgets the thought, and just starts thinking about how tired he is. Surely no one will notice if he takes a five minute nap on the sofa…

 **So here we have the friendly Opheliah Mae by EmberLex and the sickly Riley by SongOfFete! Sorry for changing Riley's Reaping very slightly, by the way. Who's your favourite- do you even like any of these tributes? Please tell me- every little bit of feedback helps me mould the Games into a more satisfying experience!**


	9. Red Strings

**Here's Chapter Nine- Red Strings! While I'm loving keeping such a quick pace with updates, I'm slightly unsatisfied with the length of this chapter- hopefully you'll be able to learn more about these wonderful tributes later on, but for now let's get into the chapter!**

 _ **Moira Alice Halloran, District 6 Female, 13**_

Moira smiles nervously at the librarian, an older, stern looking woman, and sheepishly says "I'm sorry for taking these in a little late, Ma'am."

"Don't worry, dear," the librarian says, not even looking up from her paperwork. "We all get a little nervous around the Reapings." She looks up and smiles at Moira, before looking at the book. "General Anatomy and Biology? Interestint choice."

"I want to be a doctor, when I'm older." Moira admits.

"Why don't you speak to one of the apocatheries, then? They're always willing to take someone under their wing."

Moira taps her fingers against the desk nervously. "I- uh, I wanted to become a _doctor_ doctor. In the Capitol, hopefully?"

The librarian drops her smile, and says "I suppose that's fair." in a tone that instead says that it wasn't fair at all. "You should probably get going. The Reaping." she says icily, and Moira can't take her leave quicker.

She's used to it, she supposes. The older folk from the District tend to see her desire to work in the Capitol as a betrayal in some way, as apocatheries are in huge demand in Six- even in the better neighbourhoods, burns from machinery weren't uncommon, and the slums were certainly some of the most dangerous places in Panem. Drug addiction was rampant, alongside crimes of any kind- Moira can't say she hasn't seen blood on the street walking home before.

It was why she wanted so, so bad to become a Capitolite doctor. Medicine was her passion in general, and she's proud of the fact she can nurse any minor injury anyone in her family got. But really, what she wants the most is to get her families out of the slums, into one of the tall apartment buildings dotting the centre of Six, where the richest lived. Where they could make sure to have a solid meal a day, where they had enough mattresses everyone could get their own bed, where they didn't have to scrimp and save every piece of cash they could.

She knows it's possible. She's seen it happen- sometimes, when she has spare time from studying both for school and about medicine, she watches the battered TV in the house, she's seen prodigies from the District offered apprenticeships on their nineteenth birthday, and she's sure if she can try hard enough she can be one of them.

 _If I try hard enough, everything will be OK._ It's her mantra, and it's certainly worked so far. She's alive, her family's alive, she's doing well in school and overall she's just doing great. The world may be difficult to some, but for her she would not let it ruin the beauty of every little dream, every piece of happiness, and every ambition for the future.

She might just be a girl from Six now, but she hopes someday she'll be Dr. Moira Alice Halloran, one of the best doctors in the whole of Panem. And if you hope in something hard enough, maybe, just maybe, dreams will come true.

 _ **Evangelo Goku Katsaros, District 6 Male, 13**_

"If anyone in this holding pen was Reaped, who do you think could win the Games?"

"Definitely Tiberius. He's strong, smart, and super cute!"

"... While I question that last part, I agree with you. He's just impossible not to like!"

Evangelo listens onto the conversation two other boys are having, trying his best to conceal his upset. It's always _Tiberius this, Tiberius that, did you know Tiberius is the best?_ and never anything about him. Tiberius was the good twin, the one good at anything, heck, he was even taller than Evangelo! Whereas Evangelo was just… there.

Evangelo wasn't smart. Tiberius was- he skipped a year ahead in school, Evangelo just got good grades. Evangelo wasn't strong. Tiberius was- Tiberius could do a thousand push-ups, Evangelo just liked to run around the block every once in awhile. Evangelo wasn't handsome. Tiberius was- six inches taller than Evangelo and broad shouldered compared to Evangelo's frail look.

Evangelo didn't even deserve to be Tiberius's twin.

Oh, of course, Mom and Dad would debate that. So would Tiberius- that was one other thing Tiberius was better at, it seemed. Compassion. Evangelo was compassionate, definitely- he cared for people so hard it hurt him. But Tiberius was always out with his friends, always knew the right words to say. Tiberius had a girlfriend- Evangelo felt he'd be lucky if he ever had a girl _friend_ , let alone a girlfriend.

The boys gushing about his brother quiet down when the escort walks onto the stage, a quiet man known as Rubie Scarlett, with blazing red hair, eyes, and tattoos. He didn't even bother with the preamble, opting to get the Reapings out of the way as soon as possible, which Evangelo could understand, perhaps- he hadn't had a single Victor in the ten years he was working here. He reached into the female Reaping bowl, and called out "Moira Alice Halloran." in a deadpan voice.

A girl walks out of the thirteen year old section- quiet and collected but clearly scared- as pale as a sheet and shaking. She walks up to the stage and stands quietly as Rubie reaches for the male name.

"Evangelo Goku Katsaros."

His legs start moving on his own as he walks to the stage, head on fire and vision blurry. He wants to be sick, wants to cry, he's not even sure but he feels so sick. How could this happen? He was eight names in thousands. Maybe it's a bad dream. That's the only explanation.

His feet buckle from underneath him, and then the next second the Reaped girl- Moira, was she? He can't quite think to remember- is offering her hand out to help him off the ground (how did he get on the ground?). She's got long chestnut brown hair, and her skin is dotted in freckles around the nose (it's normal for a boy to think about girls that way, right? He didn't even know her.)

He took her hand as she lead him into their doom.

 **Both the cheerful Moira and the insecure Evangelo were created by the lovely curiousclove! The chapter title is a none too subtle hint about where these twos character arc will go ;) How did you like them? Do you prefer one over the other? I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	10. A Woman's Place

**Here's the District Seven Reapings, A Woman's Place! As the title may imply, this chapter needs some content warnings. There's sexual harassment and misogynistic slurs in Aspen's section and misogyny in general in Thomas's section, so if this might be triggering I'd advise you skip those specific sections. Anyway, on with the chapter!**

 _ **Aspen Winters, District Seven Female, 13**_

Aspen is mad at the world.

Not just because it's the day of the Reaping, though that's part of it. Not just because she was the leader of the household at thirteen because her parents were incurably sick. Not just because her best "friend" Grei betrayed her by telling the Peacekeepers, the whole district about their illness and getting ostracised due to possibly carrying the disease.

While all that angered Aspen quite a lot, the main thing angering Aspen right now is that she just got hit on. She knows she looks older than many girls her age- she's definitely more _developed_ , to use more savoury language than he did. But that didn't excuse the fact that he hit on her in the first place, and that he was so awfully rude!

What he said sticks in her mind, fuelling her anger. "Hey sexy, how much do you cost?" She didn't even realise what he was implying at first, asking what he meant. "Oh, you'd give it up for free? _Naughty girl."_ Once she realised what he was implying, she stated she was only thirteen. "And I'm only sixteen, babe. No need to tell the Peacekeepers."

Aspen tightens her hands into a fist as she continues the walk home. She remembers glaring at him, before he said "No need to be a stuck up frigid bitch about it." When she told him exactly where he could shove it, he said "No need to act so unladylike, slut. I'm sure all you're good for is your body, anyway."

So she punched him. Right across the nose.

While the boy was still reeling in shock, she stormed off back home. A good thing she did, else the Peacekeepers will be on her ass in a second. She digs her fingers deep into her palm, to the point it hurts. Finally, she sees the one corrugated iron shack she knows is her own, and knocks on the door so hard she could beat it down.

Cedar, her twin brother, opens the door. "Aspen, what happened _this_ time?" he says, resigned.

"I got hit on by some creep." she says, digging her fingers in so hard she can feel the trickles of warm liquid running down her palm. "And I punched him in the nose."

"Jeez, it's like you're trying to become an Avox." Cedar sighs. "It's not like they even like this "little diseased girl" that they think you are."

"Thanks for the pep talk, brother. _Real_ inspiring."

Cedar breaks out into a grin. "Anyway, we've gotta help fix up the kid's meals before the Reaping- wait what happened to your hand?"

Aspen unclenches her fist, noticing the small, bloodied cuts made by her nails. "We should probably bandage this up before the Reapings, shouldn't we?"

"On it already, sis!" says Cedar, ripping off pieces of a ragged blanket and wrapping them around her hands. "Can't have you all bloody in the _Games,_ right?"

Aspen laughs, and all she can think of is at least if she's reaped no creep will hit on her.

 _ **Thomas Collins, District Seven Male, 16**_

Thomas is still fuming over that stuck up slut in the street while he's at the Reaping.

She punched him! _Him!_ If he had his way he'd have the Peacekeepers right on her, but she'd stormed off while he was still in shock. And so now he stood around boys he hated, holding his broken nose in one hand trying to stop the bleeding and wiping the blood off his t-shirt with the other.

Wouldn't it be karmic justice if she got sent to the Games? He'd laugh and laugh and laugh if that happened. Serves her right. He'd gave her the time of day out of all the other horrible people in this District, and she rejected him!

Good as any reason to volunteer, he supposes. He knows he's going to do it anyway. Surely anything is better than being in District Seven. He hated everything about living here, but most of all he hated the people. They were all a bunch of dumb sheep, while he was the only smart one in the District.

Thomas is brought out of his angry brooding when the escort, a thin and sexy-as-hell woman he can't be bothered to remember the name of walks onto the stage. Another reason to volunteer- there are plenty of hot chicks in the Capitol who'd love a slice of the Victor pie.

He doesn't really care about the big speech she's given- it's the same every year. So he just focuses on the escort until she says the name of the girl tribute. "Aspen Winters."

He can't help but laughing when he sees the same brown haired girl walk towards the stage that he oh-so-generously expressed interest in earlier. She looks so calm and serene, but when she sees him laughing she shoots him an icy glare.

Before the escort can even read out the male name, he screams out "I Volunteer!" He saunters up to the stage, shooting Aspen a vicious grin. _Not so bitchy now,_ he thinks, before Aspen cuts off his thoughts.

"Oh my god!" she shouts. "I can't _believe_ this. You hit on me earlier today _knowing_ I was thirteen, and now you're fucking Volunteering with me? Just leave me alone, perv!" Still a bitch, he supposes. Some women just never see sense.

The escort timidly- like a good woman- asks his name, and he says "Thomas Collins. Future Victor, you'll see!" he confidently explained. He ignored the boos from the crowd. They're just jealous, being the small minded ants they are, that he'll leave the vice grip of Seven and make his own way in life.

He starts laughing again on his way into the Justice Building.

 **And there we are! The firey Aspen by EmberLex, and the kind of awful Thomas from santiago . pocini 20. Sorry for making Thomas sorta an incel, I just thought it made sense with the personality. I hope you liked these tributes! Who's your favourite? (I have the sneaking suspicion it's not Thomas.) Next chapter is the Mentors, then the eight, ten, eleven and twelve Reapings, then we're onto the pregames!**


	11. Twenty Three

**Here is the Mentor chapter! Not every Mentor is mentioned but the majority are, I hope you enjoy!**

Cashmere misses mentoring with her brother.

Sure, Augustus was OK, if a bit boisterous for her tastes, but Gloss and her were inseparable. If she and Augustus now were a well oiled machine, her and Gloss were unstoppable. Every Tribute they mentored entered the Top Eight, until Augustus won, and One hasn't seen a Victor in the near ten years since.

Of course, due to the twelve Districts, one winner every twelve years should be around average, but that's ignoring the prestigious reputation of One and it's training academies. Cashmere remembers her time in the Hippolyta Institute as one of her finest memories, back when she was all too naive to the injustices of the world.

Now she sees the corruption around every corner, the pain the families hide in manufactured excitement that their child is off to kill and die. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees their faces. Every child she's killed, either with her own two hands in the arena, or those she's sent off to her death ever since.

This year, all that really changes is that they're younger.

—

Julius can still see them in the corner of his eye.

The little twelve year old girl he killed in the Bloodbath. That boy from Three, who was so kind to him in training. And the boy from Four, who was a scared child under his trained killed visage, and really so was Julius.

Each one of them, their head beat in with a brick or a club. He hears their screams and cries every night, as he locks himself in his room so the Capitol can never see he's so weak. Every night Honoria comes in to comfort him.

He doesn't know if he could have survived without her.

He sits in her arms like he's a scared little boy and she his mother, and counts the seconds before he's forced to go through it all over again.

—

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Wiress sits alone in her home in the Victors Village, listening to the sound of the clock in the dark. It's patterns are rhythmic and always play the same time they should. The clocks always operate on a routine, and Wiress likes that.

Her home is the only place that's safe. It's always empty, quiet and dark. Whenever things change, they're changes she allows. It's consistent and wonderful, and the only place that's happy ever since Wiress stepped foot in the Arena.

The doctors said that she was always broken, even before the Games, but Wiress doesn't believe it. She always used to count the seconds to the ticking beat of the clock. In the Arena, it kept her sane. Her token was a wristwatch and she still wears it with her everywhere.

Whenever anything gets too much, you can always focus on the constant _tick, tock_ from it.

—

Annie's crying again.

It's not all that uncommon, in her less lucid moments, but it still hurts every time. Finnick holds her closer, whispers more words of comfort in her ears, tells her everything is alright and the Games are over and hopes she can understand it, and it's helping her.

He honestly can't blame her. What she went through in the Arena could traumatise anyone. She and her brother were Reaped together, and he was killed in front of her eyes. They'd run off from the Career pack, and when they found the near catatonic Annie, they very nearly killed her before the Gamemakers raised the water levels with an earthquake to allow for some suspense.

Annie is the only Victor who ever won without killing a single person, yet she's probably the least stable of all of them. She always had some layer of dreamlike reality clouding her vision. She laughed at jokes no one else heard, covered her ears to hide the non-existing screaming, and sometimes had moments where she forgot she was safe, she was out of the Arena, she survived.

Many would say Finnick was an idiot for loving her. Finnick would say they were wrong.

—

Astra can still feel the chill running through her fingers, as clear as it was in the Arena.

It was a cold, barren landscape spreading for what felt like forever. There weren't any landmarks to guide the way, and walking anywhere felt like wandering aimlessly. So she set up camp with Jessica, her ally from District Seven.

Those were the days she tried to remember. Spending hours by the fire talking to Jessica, it was easy to forget she was in a death game, and not just on some frozen adventure with her best friend. What comes after is what she tries to forget.

The pack of bear mutts that chased them to the Cornucopia. The Careers- two boys from One and Two- stabbing Jessica. Her screams of agony as she slowly died. The Careers deciding since she was a short, frail looking girl, they'd be more memorable if they killed her slowly. All her fears of what pain she'd experience running through her head, especially with all the sick things she'd heard them say to all the girls at the Training Centre. Her picking up a mallet and hitting them again and again and again until screams filled the air and her body was coated in blood.

Astra was never the same cheerful girl after that day.

—

Jacob will never let the Capitol control him.

Sure, they can force him to appear at their silly parties, sell him to the highest bidder or force him to send more children to die, but they'll never control his mind.

Not by fear, like the Victors rather affectionately referred to as the Morphlings, so terrified to remember that they drowned their sorrows in drugs and each other. Not by glory, like Mercedes, the woman he's unfortunately sharing mentorship with, who seems to have been born with the views of a filthy Career.

Jacob has lived by the sword, and if necessary, he'll die by it.

—-

Johanna is fed up.

Of life, of Panem, of the Games, of everything. Not a single day of her goddamn life has gone right since the day she exited her mother's womb. When she was Reaped, she was happy for the first time in her life. She was free, she thought. The second she made her first kill, any sense of joy was taken away.

And things only seemed like they went from bad to worse. The few people she ever loved were killed when she refused to whore herself out- her little sister, her girlfriend. And when she cared about her tributes, they died too. Best to just stay bitter and cruel than friendly and in pain.

She's only giving the world what it gave her.

—

Calicio can't even remember his own Games.

He's the oldest Mentor, nearly seventy, and he's one of the few that were able to forget. He'd took a nasty head blow during the final battle, and ever since then he'd never been able to think right.

He watches the tapes for his game every few months, to try and remember who he is. Every time he cries. He cries when the two twelve year olds are brutally killed by the Careers, when he's just barely unable to save his allies life, when he sees the blow that made him like this, and sees the blood pouring from his head.

He knows most Victors would give anything to forget, but he just wants to remember. It feels like watching someone on a screen, not himself. He was so different, intelligent, calculated, so unlike himself now.

If it's taught him anything, it's that being ruthless is the only way to win. His compassion cost him his mind, and he was lucky.

—-

If Maisie's learnt anything from the Games, it's that violence should be avoided at all costs.

Violence only brings pain and suffering. It was necessary then, but ever since she won, she hadn't touched a hair on anyone's head. She's even become a vegetarian.

None would guess she had such a high kill count in her games- six kills, three in the bloodbath. She didn't mean to- she'd shoved someone onto a faulty landmine that failed to deactivate, which blew them and everyone around the same area sky high.

She's set up memorials for each of her victims. Honouring their name, their bravery, their kindness, whatever she can find and remember about them. They deserved a peaceful life.

Maybe one day, the children of Panem will get one.

—

Billy forgets his Games by living life to the fullest.

He knows everyone in Ten, most by name. He spends his days when he's not working drinking, and his evenings out with another pretty boy each night. He's happy in those moments.

When the distractions disappear, that's when he remembers. So he minimises the chances no distractions will appear. A bookcase full of books and a bottle of whisky in his room, the phone numbers to all of his "boyfriends", a house next door to Taura Bonney.

She says he never matured past a teenager, he says she's never learnt how to enjoy things. She says he'll die of liver failure one day, he says she'll die of boredom. He loves her.

Not love-loves, of course. Neither of them have the eyes for the opposite gender. But the two of them were as close friends as anyone could ask for.

They'd need it for the upcoming days.

—

Rue spends most of her days down at Chaff's house.

Not all day, of course. She has her family, she's got school. But she always spends an hour or two with the older Victor to share her thoughts.

They might seem an odd pair to some, but Chaff is the only one who really understands the pain she goes through whenever she closes her eyes. It's a shared thing amongst the Victors, she guesses, but Chaff is one of the few living Victors in Eleven. There's Seeder, of course, but outside of that the Victors Village was very empty.

Maybe after her first mentoring experience, it won't be.

—-

Haymitch wonders who will mentor after he dies.

It's not a rhetorical question, really. He's surrounded by empty liquor bottles and is well aware of the fact he'll drink himself into an early grave. And he's resigned himself to the fact Twelve won't have another Victor in his lifetime.

This year? No chance. The Careers are at a large advantage, if they can wrangle up some sixteen year olds to Volunteer while everyone else sent in ten year olds. Twelve was doomed- there was definitely no kids sneakily working at the mines hiding their age (well, working in the mines by actually mining, not one of those kids opening track doors for minecarts. That wouldn't help in the arena.)

He supposes it's his fault too- Twelve is the most destitute of all Districts, but being the only Mentor for a whole District was unheard of. He'd been left alone since his first year, really, when Ashley Harper, the only other Victor, killed herself just before his victory tour, and since then he hasn't brought home a single Victor.

Maybe when he dies they'll replace him with someone better.

 **I hope you liked the Mentors, both canon or not! Who's your favourite? Next chapter is the D8 Reapings! I'm so glad we're nearly in the pre-games!**


	12. IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE-READ NOW

Hey everyone. I know this is sudden, and y'all are probably angry that I havent updated in ages. For that, I'm sorry.

However, I've had a lot going on in life. My mother had a heart attack (she survived, dont worry!), rehoming my dog, and struggles in schools. And recently, a friend of mine took his own life. I've been barely sleeping, unable to even read stories on here.

So, with a heavy heart, I have to say this fic is on an indefinite hiatus. I may return, I may not. I may have to abandon this story- I hope I wont have to, but I may. If so, I hope you don't see me as unreliable- I always intended to finish this story, but life is too much right now. But hopefully, one day, I can continue. Just don't count on it.

Please don't comment on this chapter- it will be deleted if I continue. Send PMs if you'd like to discuss this further, and feel free to use your characters in other SYOTs, even if I come back. I think it is most likely I wont be able to continue this, to warn you. I'm not sure whether I should even keep this story up or not.

I'm so, so sorry

Defo.


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